


Silence is all you'll be

by fandomlver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Don't say I didn't warn you, Gen, Hobbit Kink Meme, Post BoFA, but things go bad from there, dark!fic, everyone survives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlver/pseuds/fandomlver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone survives the Battle of Five Armies, and Thorin stands ready to be crowned. But there are more secrets in Middle Earth, and this one will turn the Dwarves' world upside down and pit them against one of their oldest laws. From a kinkmeme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo never found out exactly what had happened.

The ceremony itself was in Khuzdul, and thus closed to outsiders. Thorin had apologised over and over for it, trying to find a way around it, a way for Bilbo to attend. It had taken a long time for Bilbo to convince him he didn’t mind. He’d have liked to see the ceremony, but watching afterwards would be just as good.

So he was outside the hall, studying some of the carvings to pass the time, when a handful of Dwarves swept down the corridor and burst in. A moment later there was a cry of horror from inside, and then the doors fell closed again and there was nothing.

Bilbo hesitated, not sure what to do. Eventually, he decided to wait; the room was full of heavily armed Dwarves, after all, not just the Company but Dain and some of his people as well. Whatever was happening, he was sure they could handle it.

A little later, when he was starting to think about trying to slip in, the door burst open again and Kíli raced out. Fíli was on his heels, and though the older one clearly saw Bilbo he didn’t stop or make any sign, just followed his brother through the corridors and away.

Bilbo slipped across to the still-open door, peering cautiously through. His gaze flitted across the group, picking out the ones he knew. At first he skimmed past the dark haired figure wearing the crown – until he saw Thorin standing below the dais, Balin and Dwalin flanking him. Frowning, Bilbo looked back at the dais, trying to understand what was going on.

Thorin took a single step forward, voice raised, and in a heartbeat Bilbo understood.

“Hail Thrain, King under the Mountain!”

 

He found Bofur later, sitting on the edge of a balcony and chewing on his pipe. He glanced up as Bilbo sat down. “Master Hobbit.”

“Master Bofur. Can you explain what’s happening?”

Bofur chewed on his pipe for a few minutes. “Thrain is Thorin’s father,” he said finally.

“Yes, I know the lineage. But Thrain died in Dol Gulder. Gandalf was there.”

Bofur spread his hands. “A Dwarf with Thrain’s key died in Dol Gulder. Balin and Thorin have both spoken with Thrain, and they agree he is who he says he is.”

“And now he’s King?” Bilbo asked. “Even after Thorin…”

“Even after Thorin,” Bofur agreed. “Dwarf law is very clear. Unless Thrain dies or steps aside, he is the King. Long may he reign,” he added, sounding vaguely disturbed by the notion.

“But where has he been?”

“Ah, well, that part’s still a mystery. And likely to remain that way, if I’m any judge.”

Bilbo sighed, absently taking the pipe when Bofur offered it to him. They’d run out of pipe weed long ago, and none had yet arrived in the supply runs, but holding the pipe and chewing the stew was somehow comforting. “I saw the lads run off. Are they all right?”

Bofur shrugged. “No one’s seen them since. Kíli got fair upset when Thorin stepped aside.”

“What happens to them now?”

“They’re still princes of the line. Only pushed back a step, I suppose. Thorin’ll be Crown Prince, once Thrain’s settled in.”

Ori wandered past the end of the corridor and Bofur raised his voice. “Ori! Looking for us, lad?”

Ori trotted over to join them, looking so frazzled Bilbo started to offer him the pipe on pure instinct. “I’ve to find everyone,” he said mournfully. “And I can’t find Fíli and Kíli. They’re not anywhere.”

“I’ll help you,” Bilbo offered. “Why do you need them?”

“There’s a special dinner tomorrow night, and everyone has to be there, the whole Company. Thorin’s orders.”

“Where have you looked for them?” Bilbo asked.

He didn’t really listen to Ori’s answer. He was still the Company Burglar, after all, and he’d made it his business to know where each member of the Company tended to go. So he nodded solemnly to Ori, gave Bofur back his pipe and thanked him, and headed off to search Kíli’s bolt holes. 

He found them in the second place he checked; a narrow walkway, clinging to the outside of the Mountain’s west face. It might have been meant as a lookout, once, but in the years since Smaug had driven the dwarves out it had partly crumbled away, and plants had overgrown it. It was now almost impossible to see from below.

Fíli and Kíli were sitting hunched at the far end, shoulders pressed together, muttering. Bilbo watched them for a moment before dropping on Fíli’s other side.

“Don’t mind me,” he said brightly when they fell silent. “I’ll wait. Nice view, isn’t it?”

The lads studied each other for a moment longer before Fíli sighed, leaning back on his hands. “Who’s looking for us?”

“Everyone,” Bilbo said mildly. “But as far as I know, none of them know about this place. You’re safe for a while yet.”

“A while?” Kíli repeated suspiciously.

“Dinner tomorrow evening, everyone has to be there. So you’ll need to come in in time to get ready for that.”

“Is _he_ going to be there?”

Bilbo considered for a moment. “If you mean Thrain, I don’t know.”

“Thorin is our king,” Kíli snarled.

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed. “But Thorin has stepped aside –“ Kíli scoffed, and Bilbo raised his voice. “And he will expect you to follow his lead. You know that, Kíli. Thrain wears the crown; Thrain is king.”

“I will not…”

“Kíli,” Fíli murmured, and Kíli cut himself off sharply. “Thank you, Bilbo. We’ll come in in a little bit.”

Bilbo nodded, rising to his feet. “Things will come right, boys. You’ll see.”

 

Dinner was mostly silent, and very awkward. Occasionally one or another of the Dwarves would start a conversation, but it quickly petered out under Thrain’s glares. Only Fíli and Kíli kept talking, half in whispers and half in iglishmek under the table and behind the others’ backs.

Thrain’s cup thumped against the table. “And what is that?” he demanded. “What have you brought to my table, boy?”

Thorin shifted. “That is Master Baggins. A Hobbit of the Shire. He is the reason we were able to reclaim Erebor.”

“Indeed,” Thrain said vaguely. “Well, Master Biggens, I am sure you have my thanks. You’ll be missing your home. Arrangements will be made to return you there.”

“Father,” Thorin said carefully, “I gave my word that Master Baggins would have a place here for so long as he wished.”

Thrain stared at him. “Erebor is a Dwarf kingdom, boy. We’ll not be opening it to anyone else. Arrangements will be made for your Hobbit. That is my word.”

Thorin looked away, and Bofur hissed out a low breath. “King’s word is law,” he murmured when he saw Bilbo’s look. “No one can refuse to obey. I’m sorry, my boy.”

Bilbo shook his head automatically. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to us.”

“And what are you two talking about?” Thrain demanded, rounding on Fíli and Kíli.

“Just discussing the repairs the city will need, Grandfather,” Fíli said. Thrain didn’t seem to notice the grip Fíli had on his brother’s arm.

“And what conclusions have you reached?”

“It needs a lot of work,” Kíli said shortly.

“Indeed. Be more specific.”

Bilbo lost track of the conversation after that; Thrain kept pressing, and Fíli was answering without hesitation, though from Bofur’s reactions he wasn’t doing very well. Kíli was staring sullenly at his plate.

Bofur shook his head finally, leaning forward. “Fíli, you need to start at the bottom and work up when you’re reinforcing. If the base isn’t stable –“

“And who is this?” Thrain asked. “Another of your companions, Thorin?”

“Bofur, of Ered Luin, at your service.” Bofur bowed shortly.

Thrain studied him. “You are not of Durin’s folk.”

“No.”

“Father –“ Thorin started. Thrain turned to glare at him, and he subsided.

“Bofur and his brother and cousin saved all of our lives more than once,” Balin said from further down the table.

“Indeed. And your profession, Bofur?”

“Master Bofur is a miner,” Fíli offered before Bofur could answer.

Thrain took a long sip from his cup. “Well, I’m sure our mines will only benefit from Dwarves such as him.” Bofur snorted, but he didn’t speak up, and they fell back into silence until finally Thrain rose, without so much as a word, and left.

The tension relaxed so sharply Bilbo could feel it; several of the Dwarves seemed to almost go boneless in relief. Thorin, though, was still tense and solemn.

Kíli leaned across the table, eyes wide and urgent. “Uncle, are you really going to let him send Bilbo away?”

Thorin stirred. “He is King, Kíli. His word is law.”

“You are our King!”

Thorin rose to his feet, coming around the table to them. Kíli pushed back, but before he could stand Thorin touched his shoulder, stilling him. “Lad,” he said, so softly Bilbo looked away to try and avoid hearing any more, “you have to stop. It means more than you know. But your grandfather is King. Your loyalty is to the Crown, not to me. Understand?”

“You are _my_ King,” Kíli whispered. Bilbo met Bofur’s eyes, trying very hard not to let the tears welling in his fall. Kíli sounded completely broken hearted.

Thorin’s hand moved to the back of Kíli’s head, pressing their foreheads together. “Then listen to your King, lad. Obey Thrain in all things, treat him with the respect his position deserves, and do not tell him your feelings. Promise me.”

“Uncle –“

“ _Promise_ me.”

Fíli reached out, squeezing Kíli’s hand, and the younger brother nodded. “I promise, Uncle.”

“Good,” Thorin breathed, letting him go and leaning back. “Good. Thank you. Fíli…”

“I promise, Uncle,” Fíli echoed. “But it is still you. You will always be our King, whether he sits the throne or not.”

“Fíli,” Thorin said, and it almost sounded like he groaned.

“I’ll play along,” Fíli told him, eyes bright. “Because you’ve asked it.”

Thorin nodded, drew a breath, and looked down the table. Before he could speak, Dwalin rose to his feet and bowed his head. “My promise, Thorin.”

“My promise, Thorin,” Balin echoed, and all along the table the Dwarves stood and gave their promise.

Abruptly Bilbo realised he was the only one still sitting, and he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t suppose it matters much,” he said, trying to force a smile. “It seems I shan’t be here much longer. But if it will help you, Thorin, I will give my promise.”

“Thank you, Master Hobbit,” Thorin said thickly, and then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Kíli slipped away in another direction, and Fíli followed him. The rest of the Dwarves sat, slowly, and a low murmur of conversation picked back up.

Bofur caught Bilbo’s eye and whistled slowly. “Well. That was something.”

Speechless, Bilbo only nodded in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo was half expecting to be hustled out of the Mountain the next morning, but several days passed with no mention of it. He saw little of Thorin and nothing of Fíli or Kíli. He ended up spending most of his time with Bofur or Ori, helping where he could as they worked to return order to Erebor. The Dwarves were obviously on edge, but none of them would explain to Bilbo, telling him vaguely that it was ‘complicated’ or ‘a difficult situation’. Bilbo got used to never quite knowing what was happening.

Thorin came to find him one evening, glancing distastefully around at the small, plain room Bilbo had been moved into. “I would give you better if I could,” he said apologetically.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bilbo said quickly. “It has a roof and a real bed. That’s all I care about. Thorin, what’s happening?”

“I am making plans for your escort back to the Shire. I cannot be as generous as I had planned with your reward. The king will not authorise one cent more than your contract entitles you to.”

“Hang the contract and hang the gold! Thorin, things are _wrong_ here. You can see that, can’t you?”

“He’s my father,” Thorin murmured. “And he is my king. What would you have me do, Master Hobbit?”

“I would have you remember that you are Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said softly. “It’s thanks to you that your people can come home. History may not remember it, and your father seems determined to make everyone forget, but we who love you know the truth.” Thorin was staring fixedly and his hands. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. “Er – it’s not much, I know, but – oh, forget I said anything. I’m sure I got it wrong. I generally do.”

“Forget?” Thorin echoed, voice hoarse. “I shall never forget what you have said, Master Baggins. Excuse me, please.”

He slipped out without once looking at Bilbo.

 

Two days later Dwalin came into the library where Ori and Bilbo were sorting scrolls. “Ori! Throne room, now. Come with me, Master Hobbit.”

“What’s happening?” Ori asked.

“Announcement from Long-May-He-Reign, and he wants all of us there. Come, Master Hobbit, I’ll be missed.”

Bilbo scurried along behind him, absently wondering who had started the Company’s new habit of referring to the king that way. It sounded like something Fíli and Kíli might have done, but Bilbo wasn’t sure anyone had seen them in days.

Dwalin led him up several levels and along some corridors before pausing. “Follow this corridor to the end,” he murmured, “and stay very quiet, Master Baggins.”

“I shall,” Bilbo promised. He didn’t bother asking what was happening. If Dwalin was going to tell him, he would have done it by now.

The corridor opened onto a narrow balcony, and he could hear the low murmur of a crowd. Bilbo ducked as he approached the end of it, staying below the level of the railings. He could see enough to know he was above the throne room, and most of the Company was gathered, along with Dain and two or three of his people. Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were standing near the dais; the boys were whispering urgently, but Thorin stood alone and silent even when they spoke directly to him.

Bilbo turned, putting his back to the railings and sinking down to sit. He really didn’t want to get caught up here, but Dwalin must have had a reason for bringing him. Several minutes passed before the room fell abruptly silent. Bilbo resisted the urge to stand and see what was happening; the only thing it could be was Thrain arriving.

“Is this it?” he demanded.

“Your people here in Erebor, and Lord Dain and his counsellors,” Thorin said. “As you requested.”

“Good. You are here to witness as I name my Crown Prince and Heir. Fíli, step forward.”

“What?” Fíli said.

“Step forward,” Thrain repeated impatiently.

“Thorin is Crown –“

“Thorin is what I say he is!” Thrain spat. Bilbo risked peering through the railings, counting on everyone being absorbed in what was happening on the dais. “And you are what I say you are, and I say you will step forward and be crowned!”

“No,” Fíli said clearly. “I will not, my King.”

“Fíli,” Thorin started.

“You will be silent!” Thrain hissed. “Was this your idea, too? Undermine me before my people?”

“I did not know you were planning this,” Thorin said evenly. “Fíli, remember your promise.”

“I remember,” Fíli agreed. “But I cannot do this, Uncle.”

“What promise?” Thrain demanded. “What promise are you exacting from my heir, Thorin?”

“He bade me obey you in all things,” Fíli said. Bilbo, above and to the side of them, could see the grip he was maintaining on Kíli’s arm, keeping his brother silent. “But I will not stand by and see him dismissed, my lord. Thorin reclaimed this kingdom. You will not deny him his place in it.”

“I am your king. You should need no promise to give me your loyalty. Step forward, my heir.”

“I am Thorin’s heir,” Fíli told him. “Not yours. My King.”

Thrain rose, slowly, from his throne. “I am King,” he said, surprisingly quiet; Bilbo found himself leaning forwards a little, breathless. “My word is law. You disobey me at your peril. Once more, Fíli, son of Dis, and this chance only because my blood runs in your veins; step forward, and be crowned as heir to Erebor and her riches.”

“Fíli,” Thorin started.

“You will be silent!” Thrain shouted. “Speak again and you will regret it!”

Thorin bowed his head, jaw tight and fixed. Bilbo watched as Kíli and Fíli seemed to wrestle for a moment before Fíli stumbled forward a step or two, jerking to a halt. Thrain didn’t seem to notice how awkward the move was; he only saw that Fíli had come forward, and he beamed.

“Good. Lower your head, boy.”

Fíli stared at him for a long moment before looking, desperately, at Thorin. “Uncle…”

“Do as he says,” Thorin said quietly.

Fíli gritted his teeth and lowered his head, standing still as stone as the crown was lowered onto his head and Thrain continued the ritual. As soon as Fíli was released he stumbled backwards; Kíli tried to touch his shoulder, and the older brother shied away from him.

“Now, one more thing,” Thrain announced, and he sounded so relaxed Bilbo was instantly suspicious. “I did say, did I not, that you would regret speaking again, boy?”

Thorin’s jaw ground. “You did, my lord.”

“And yet you spoke again, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Come here.” Thrain pointed to a step two below him; Thorin moved to that exact spot, eyes locked somewhere in the distance.

There was a scuffle, and Bilbo looked away from Thorin to see Dwalin and Bofur holding Kíli tightly. Balin had a hand on Fíli’s arm, but the prince wasn’t moving, only watching with a terrible look of resignation.

When he looked back Thrain was holding a blade, a short, sharp dagger, and Bilbo almost cried a warning before catching himself. Of course the others could see it; that’s why they were holding on to the boys.

Thorin didn’t move, didn’t react, as Thrain carefully and very deliberately severed every one of his braids at the root. Apparently unsatisfied, he then grabbed handfuls of hair, pulling and ripping, severing it in random spots.

Bilbo looked back at the boys. Kíli’s eyes were bright, but he was watching, even if he was gripping Bofur’s arm so tightly it had to hurt. Fíli’s chin was up; Balin seemed to be looking somewhere over Thorin’s shoulder. Bilbo glanced at the others; Ori was looking away, too, but everyone else was watching with a strange intensity.

Finally sated, Thrain threw the blade away, releasing Thorin. He didn’t move, not until Thrain waved him carelessly away; then he drew himself up, bowed, and turned to leave.

“Boy,” Thrain said lazily, and Thorin halted. “You will clear your belongings from the Heir’s quarters. They are Fíli’s now.”

“Of course, my lord,” Thorin said. “They will be ready at once, my prince,” he added to Fíli, bowing before continuing out of the hall. The Company drew back, clearing a path down their middle for him; he stared straight ahead as he passed between them.

“Attend on me, Fíli,” Thrain ordered. Fíli bowed, murmuring briefly to Balin before going to join his grandfather; Balin crossed to Dwalin and Bofur, and they pulled Kíli away, out of the hall. The rest of the Company was melting away, and Bilbo took the opportunity to slip away.

Thorin had never had much time to himself, but Bilbo knew where to look for him. He made sure to avoid the others as he slipped through the halls, heading deeper into the mountain and eventually reaching one of the large tombs. The door and part of the wall had collapsed, and Bilbo was careful to make plenty of noise as he scrambled inside.

The tombs themselves were untouched. Thorin was leaning against one, arms folded and eyes downcast; Bilbo glanced at the tomb, but though the engravings were clear he couldn’t read a word of it.

“You saw?” Thorin asked without looking up.

“I saw,” Bilbo agreed. “I won’t stay, if you’d rather be alone, but I’d like to make sure you don’t need Oin. I know you, you’d bleed to death first.”

Thorin shook his head. “The blade touched skin in only two places, and both are shallow. I need no care.”

“If you’re sure.” Bilbo hesitated. Thorin hadn’t looked up yet. “Should I leave?”

“Who else knows where I am?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t even sure until I got here and saw you.”

Thorin nodded. “Then, Master Hobbit, I would take it as a kindness if you stayed.”

Bilbo considered for a moment before gesturing. “Sit?”

“Pardon me?”

“Sit, Thorin. I can’t reach your head.” Thorin hesitated, and Bilbo gentled his voice. “Just to clean you up a little. Those cuts may have been shallow, but any head wound still bleeds, and you’ll have to face the others eventually. Your boys are quite upset enough.”

Thorin nodded, settling on the edge of the tomb. Bilbo gave it a dubious look before climbing up and carefully positioning himself behind the Dwarf. He worked on the remains of Thorin’s hair for a while, untangling the strands and wiping the blood away. “You were right, at least,” he murmured. “The cuts are shallow, they’re already sealed. I suppose that was the point.”

“Yes.”

Bilbo nudged him gently. “Tell me who you are.”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, and I brought our people home.”

“Good.” Bilbo considered Thorin’s hair. “You won’t braid it for a while, and it will have to be shortened, for it’s dreadfully uneven. But it won’t look so bad then. And after all, Kíli wears no braids.”

“Kíli is very young,” Thorin murmured. “How are the lads?”

“Fíli was attending on Thrain when I left. Dwalin and Bofur had taken Kíli. I don’t know where, I left to find you.” He stared sightlessly at Thorin’s head for a moment. “It looked to me as though Kíli made Fíli step up to be crowned.”

“He had no choice,” Thorin said sharply. “He did as I wanted him to.”

“I know,” Bilbo agreed placidly. “You’ll have to tell both of them that, I should think. Fíli didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“No,” Thorin said quietly. “Tell me, Master Baggins, were they watching?”

“They were. Everyone watched.”

“Everyone,” he murmured.

Bilbo touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ll go distract the Company from looking down here. Who will you tolerate best?”

Thorin sighed. “Oin or Gloin.”

“Good. Then Oin or Gloin you shall have.” He scrambled off the tomb and slipped out, leaving Thorin alone with his ancestors.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t bother with Bofur or Dwalin this time. Both were busy with Kíli, and neither would tell him what he needed to know anyway. Bilbo went back to the balcony to watch what was happening below.

Watching now, it was hard to believe Thrain was anything but a hard working, dedicated leader. He was discussing supply shipments with Dain and Bard, listening carefully to them, drawing Fíli in and asking for his opinions. Only the crown Fíli still wore proved that anything had happened; even the hair was gone from the floor.

Balin excused himself after a while, and Bilbo took his chance, slipping through the corridor and meeting Balin near Dwalin’s quarters. Balin didn’t look surprised, just gestured him to follow. Dwalin glanced up as they came in, one eyebrow up; Balin shrugged, stepping aside for Bilbo.

Kíli was sitting on the floor by Dwalin’s bed, legs drawn up loosely in front of himself. Bilbo sighed, crossing to sit on the bed above him. “Cheer up, lad. Your uncle says you did the right thing. You did what he wanted you to do.”

Kíli looked up, blinking. “You’ve seen Thorin?”

“Yes. He’s quite unhurt. Oin’s with him now.”

He laughed shakily. “You made him agree to see Oin? You are officially a miracle worker, Master Boggins.”

“Baggins,” Bilbo corrected him absently.

Kíli fidgeted for a moment. “Did he seem well? Really?”

“Shaken,” Bilbo said honestly, “but more concerned about you two than anything. You know that you did what he wanted, don’t you?”

“He didn’t want this!” Kíli protested.

“He wanted Fíli to obey Thrain. He’s glad that you made him do it.”

“Thorin might be. Fíli isn’t. He wouldn’t even look at me.”

Bilbo patted his shoulder, looking up at Balin and Dwalin and wondering absently where Bofur was. “Tell me what’s happening.” Neither spoke, and he scowled, looking at Dwalin. “You brought me there for a reason. Tell me what’s happening. Let me help.”

Balin considered, studying Kíli. “Maybe later.”

“I’ll just make sure to stand beside you until they tell you, Bilbo,” Kíli said firmly. “I want to know, Balin. Fíli obviously does.”

“I’m not sure he does,” Bilbo murmured, but he shook his head when Kíli glanced at him. “No, never mind, I’m sure you know better than I the mind of a Dwarf. Balin.”

Balin glanced at Dwalin before nodding. “Thrain is very aware that Thorin is the one who reclaimed the Kingdom. Thorin is the hero of the Battle of Five Armies; Thorin is King in the hearts of his followers.”

Kíli shook his head, not following, and Dwalin added, “Thrain fears Thorin will try to overthrow him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kíli protested. “Thorin is loyal to the Crown. It would never even occur to him.”

“Even if it does not occur to him,” Dwalin continued, “Thrain fears a coup on Thorin’s behalf.”

Kíli stared at him, lips moving soundlessly. “There has never been a Dwarven coup,” he managed finally. “Does my grandfather think so little of us?”

“He thinks little of himself, lad,” Balin told him. “Thrain knows that Thorin has led our people and kept them together for decades now. He knows that everyone here would follow Thorin through anything.”

“We’d follow Thrain through anything too!”

“Because he’s King. We follow Thorin because he’s Thorin.”

Bilbo half lifted a hand. “Your king is afraid we’ll overthrow him in favour of Thorin, so his reaction is to brutalize Thorin at every turn?”

“To ensure that Thorin will not support an uprising, yes.”

He shook his head in amazement. “Dwarves. You’re all insane.”

“You don’t understand,” Kíli told him.

“No. I don’t. Hobbits bow to no king, and I think I’m glad of it.”

“You’ll need to be careful,” Dwalin told him. “If any but the Company see you, Thrain will use it as evidence of Thorin’s rebellion. You’re supposed to be long gone.”

“Don’t worry, Master Dwalin, I know how to stay out of sight.” Bilbo glanced at Kíli before looking back at Balin. “What about the rest of you?”

“Fíli is safe, if he plays his part. Kíli, too. Thrain needs his heirs.” Balin looked down at Kíli. “Do you hear me, lad? You will continue to play along with Thrain.”

“Balin…”

“Thorin wants you to, lad. It’s no betrayal to do as he wishes.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Aye,” Balin agreed with a sigh. “There’s little about this feels right.”

 

Bilbo didn’t dare go back to his room after they’d spoken. Kíli helped him gather a couple of blankets and a handful of other supplies, but he didn’t go with him. “Best if none of us know exactly where you are,” he explained quietly. “Just in case. You have somewhere in mind?”

“Oh, there are plenty of places, yes. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I can’t stop,” Kíli muttered. “I’ll have Bofur leave you some supplies, if you can find a way to tell him where.”

“Bofur’s easier than anyone, he’s been working in the mines.” Bilbo studied Kíli for a moment. “Kíli, you are going to play along, aren’t you?”

Kíli smiled bitterly. “Yes, Master Hobbit, I will denounce my uncle and obey my grandfather. I know my part.”

“Thorin knows why you’re doing it.”

“That does not comfort me much.” Kíli glanced around suddenly. “Someone’s coming. Go, Master Hobbit. And please, stay out of sight until you can find Bofur on his own.”

“I promise,” Bilbo told him, and slipped down the corridor just ahead of whoever was coming.

He hadn’t been lying. There were plenty of places to hide, places he could have stayed in perfect comfort if he’d wanted to. The Company, Dain’s people and the handful who’d come with Thrain still filled only a tiny part of the city, after all. But the rooms seemed oddly cold and unfriendly, and he found himself back down in the tomb where he’d spoken with Thorin. He told himself it was because there was a second entrance; he could get away without being seen if anyone should happen to come in.

He waited a day before finding Bofur, who greeted him cheerfully and loaded him down with supplies. “I think Kíli’s been panicking a little,” he offered.

“Yes, it seems that way,” Bilbo agreed, carefully putting down the pile. “I’ll come back for them. How is Thorin?”

“Obedient.”

“And the lads?”

Bofur made a face. “Also obedient, and from the looks of it, not talking to each other.”

Bilbo sighed. “Do you know what’s happening, Bofur?”

“Enough, I think.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Asking never hurt.”

Bilbo nodded, trying to order his thoughts. “Kíli seemed – he wants Thorin to be king, I know he does. But even the _idea_ of trying to overthrow Thrain – it seemed as though he couldn’t even imagine it.”

Bofur nodded. “Aye. Rebellion like that, it’s not in our nature. Hard to understand. Especially for the Longbeard Dwarves; they’re descended from the Durins, y’see, and the Longbeards – they aren’t Longbeards if they aren’t following Durin’s line, you understand? I’m not surprised the lad struggled with it.”

“But Thrain thinks Thorin can do it?”

“Ach, well, who knows what’s in that one’s mind.”

Bilbo started to reach for his pipe before catching himself. “And you’ll follow Thrain?”

“As long as Thorin wishes it, yes, and so long as the boys aren’t hurt. Thrain’s not a bad king to those not of his blood. Mind, if Thorin chooses to stand against him, I’ll be at his shoulder. Kingship’s one thing, loyalty’s something else.”

“Thorin won’t do it,” Bilbo muttered. “Or if he does, he won’t do it where anyone can join in. Not if rebellion is so foreign to Dwarves. He won’t want to make you chose.”

“Stubborn cuss,” Bofur agreed. “And how are you doing, Bilbo? Kíli made me swear not to ask where you’re staying, but you’re safe at least?”

“Safe, yes. Thorin will know where to find me if he needs to, if you can tell him.”

“You know you can still leave. No one would blame you; you’ve done all you can do and you risk much by staying. We’ll get you out of here and safe if it’s what you want.”

“I know. I can’t.”

“Aye. Thought you might say that. But I had to make the offer. And it’s a true offer, Bilbo, and it will still be there if you chose to take it up.”

“Yes, I know,” Bilbo said quietly. “But I can’t go, Bofur.”

Bofur nodded. “Leave your supplies here, if you think you can get here without being seen. No one comes down here but me, and it’s safer than trying to carry them around.”

“You’re probably right,” Bilbo agreed. “Bofur, you’ll tell me if anything happens?”

“Straight away,” Bofur promised.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo spent a lot of time up on the balcony. He’d discovered that with some care, he was all but invisible from below, and he’d found ways to get there without passing any of the main corridors. If Dwalin knew he was there, he never showed it, and no one else knew he’d found the place at all.

He watched as Thrain charmed the incoming Dwarves, built treaties with Bard and with Thranduil, trained Fíli – and, to some extent, Kíli – in diplomacy and justice and everything else a king needed. He placed the Company where they could use their skills to best effect, beginning the long job of rebuilding Erebor and Dale to their former glory. He was approachable and polite and affable, just and kind.

Thorin stood in the shadows and watched. And every so often Thrain seemed to remember his son, dragging him in front of the Court and berating him for one imagined failing or another. He gave Thorin work to do, but refused to allow him to leave the throne room to do it, then punished him for failing to do it. On the occasions Thorin was allowed to leave, he was given heavy physical work to do, clearing rock falls and shoring up walls; Thrain invariably called him back to the throne room half way through, and then punished him both for failing to finish the work, and for appearing in Court dirty and bedraggled. Thorin was refused permission to seek medical aid for the injuries he incurred while working, on the basis that the pain might help him remember. More than once he was refused food.

Bilbo helped where he could. He couldn’t help with Thorin’s work, since he was never alone when doing it, but he slipped into Thorin’s new room – tiny and ill-equipped, and always, always cold – and tended his wounds as best he could, slipping him food and water when he could persuade him to accept it. More often than not, his help consisted solely of sitting in silence by Thorin’s side.

Fíli did nothing to protect Thorin, staying remote and untouchable on the dais. Kíli did nothing either, though he did occasionally, diffidently, speak up to turn Thrain’s attention to something else. Both called him Thorin when they spoke to or about him, never ‘Uncle’, though Kíli always looked slightly pained when he said it. On days when Thorin had been injured, extra medical supplies turned up in Bilbo’s stash. Thrain was always careful to assign his own people to Thorin, never anyone from the Company who might be sympathetic to him, who might look to help him.

Bilbo thought the Company was turning away from Thrain. They obeyed his orders promptly and to the letter, but there was no trust there. When they’d followed Thorin, they’d anticipated his orders, helped him where they could, loved him. Thrain got exactly what he was due as their King and no more.

Bofur passed him a message one day to meet with Kíli as soon as possible. It took a while; Kíli was alone in his rooms, but the corridors around were watched and patrolled, and if there were secret entrances Bilbo hadn’t found them yet. When Kíli left his rooms he was shadowed by a guard and surrounded by Court officials; eventually he declared his intention to examine the mine workings, and brought Bofur, Bifur and Bombur with him. Between them, Bombur and Bifur got the guard lost, and Bofur escorted Kíli to meet with Bilbo.

“How is my uncle?” Kíli asked as soon as he saw the Hobbit.

“I haven’t seen him in a couple of days,” Bilbo said apologetically. “Has something happened?”

“He hasn’t been in Court,” Kíli said fretfully. “Thrain hasn’t said anything, and we can’t ask.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Bilbo promised. “How is Fíli?”

A shadow passed over Kíli’s face. “I haven’t spoken to him in days. Thrain keeps him close, and when he’s in his rooms he keeps them locked against everyone.”

“I’ll see if I can do anything about that, too.”

Kíli shook his head. “Fíli is safe, Bilbo. Thorin is in trouble.”

“Well. I shall do what I can, anyway. Hurry, now, before your guard becomes suspicious. Three Durinsons in trouble might be too much for me.”

Kíli smiled faintly, turning away. He hesitated in the door, came back, and swept Bilbo into a hug, all but lifting him off his feet. “Thank you,” he mumbled into Bilbo’s hair.

“Oh, it’s nothing, lad. Go on, now.” Bilbo had to catch at Kíli’s arm to steady himself; Kíli grinned, disentangling them and hurrying out.

“Poor lad,” Bofur murmured.

“Keep an eye on him for me?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye. As ever.” Bofur smiled at him, slipping away into the depths of the mine.

Bilbo fingered the Ring in his pocket. So far he’d been able to manage without it; but if he was going to keep his promise, he’d need it. He slipped it on, making his way out of the mines and heading for the rooms Thrain’s guards used.

It took almost a day and a half before Bilbo finally heard what he needed to and headed down into the depths of the Mountain. There were guards here and there, and he had to pay very close attention to where he was stepping; no one had cleared any of the rubble from down here yet. Eventually he reached the old dungeons. There were cells in the city, for petty crimes; down here, though, were the true dungeons.

Bilbo checked several cells before finding Thorin. The only light was a torch flickering fitfully in the corridor, and he could make out very little by its’ light. The guards were at the far end of the corridor, and he didn’t dare to move the torch closer.

“Thorin,” he said softly. “Thorin, it’s Bilbo. Can you move? You must be quiet, the guards are nearby.”

Thorin stirred, but he didn’t move no matter how Bilbo cajoled him, and Bilbo didn’t dare raise his voice too much. Eventually, and reluctantly, he left, slipping past the guards again and heading up towards the royal rooms. If he couldn’t help one Durinson right away, he’d see what he could do for the other.

He waited in the hall until Fíli came along, ignoring his guard. Bilbo timed it carefully, slipping through the door the moment Fíli opened it.

“Make sure no one comes in,” Fíli ordered the guard, and then closed and locked the door. Bilbo watched as he took off his crown, laying it carefully on a table; his movements were so controlled Bilbo was quite sure he’d rather hurl the crown at the nearest wall.

Bilbo carefully backed up a little, away from Fíli, before taking the Ring off and saying his name at the same moment. Fíli spun, eyes wide and wild, and visibly cut off his own shout.

“Bilbo,” he said after a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been worried,” Bilbo told him. “This is the only way I could get to talk to you. Do you know where your uncle is?”

Fíli shook his head, sinking into a seat. “Thrain won’t tell me, and I can’t keep asking him, not without making him suspicious. If I don’t play along with him, he’ll dismiss me and name Kíli, and I _know_ Kíli won’t be able to keep silent, not on the dais. He’s having enough trouble being in the room.”

Bilbo nodded slowly. “He’s down in the dungeons.”

Fíli closed his eyes, sitting very still for a long moment. “How is he?” he asked finally, voice cracking.

“I couldn’t get to him, and I couldn’t get him to talk to me. Fíli – your grandfather is _wrong_. You know that.”

“We are Dwarves, Master Baggins. The king is the king.”

“Even if he’s wrong?” Bilbo said sharply. “Even if he kills Thorin, which he surely will?”

“He is _King_ ,” Fíli said miserably. “And my uncle, who is _my_ king, has told me to obey my grandfather in all things.” Taking a deep breath, he looked up and met Bilbo’s eyes. “Can you get him out?”

“You think he’ll leave Erebor? You think he’ll leave you in Thrain’s hands?”

“No, not out of Erebor. Out of the cells. Thrain hasn’t told anyone he’s there, there’s been no formal accusation. If Thorin is suddenly not there, there’s little can be done about it.”

“Except that Thorin will have to sneak and hide and stay in the shadows. That’s no way to live, not for him.”

“Not for anyone,” Fíli agreed. “I’m sorry, Bilbo. This isn’t fair to you.”

“It isn’t fair to anyone, so let’s not worry about me. Fíli, is there any way for you to make up with your brother? He’s miserable.”

“No.”

“Fíli…”

“It’s to protect him. We’re Thorin’s boys, you know. It won’t take much for Thrain to turn on us, and the only way I can protect Kíli is to keep him away and out of Thrain’s sight and thoughts. And that’s easier if Kíli is never near me.”

Bilbo had to turn away to gather himself. “Fíli,” he said once he trusted himself. “Do you hear what you are saying? That you cannot trust your king with your brother?”

“I know what I’m saying.”

“And you still tell me he is your king?”

This time it was Fíli who turned away, hands fisted in his hair. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Master Hobbit. For a Dwarf to go against his King, his rightful King…”

Bilbo smiled sadly. “It would be like asking a Hobbit to leave his home and face a dragon, I suppose.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Fíli breathed.

“No. It’s never the same thing.” He stood, laying a hand on Fíli’s shoulder. “I need you to open the door so I can leave, Master Fíli.”

“Leave,” Fíli echoed.

“I must see what I can do for Thorin.”

“Thorin told me to obey –“

“To obey your King. I know,” Bilbo agreed. “Fíli, let me out.”

 

This time he kept watch until the guards drank themselves asleep; then he took a torch and a water skin down the corridor to Thorin’s door, and simply kept talking until Thorin finally came to sit on the other side of the door.

Bilbo passed the water skin in, watching as Thorin restrained himself to a couple of sips at a time. “What can I do, Thorin?”

“There is nothing to do, Master Hobbit.” Thorin leaned against the wall.

“What’s Thrain doing?”

“He wishes me to name my co-conspirators in our attempt to overthrow him. He has ordered no food, no water, no contact until I do so.”

“With no contact, how are you supposed to name anybody?” Bilbo said blankly. “Even if there was anyone to name?” Thorin only shook his head wearily, and Bilbo sighed. “I don’t know what I can do, Thorin. I can try to find the key.”

“Thrain has it. And you will not go near him, Master Hobbit.”

“You, Master Dwarf, are not my King,” Bilbo pointed out.

“No.” Thorin closed his eyes again. “I am no one’s King now.”

“Not so. The Company are waiting for your word.”

“They will not hear it.”

“No. I thought they probably wouldn’t.” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll be back in a moment, Thorin.”

He slipped back up to the guard room, taking a few bites of food on a plate and another water skin. “I don’t dare take more,” he apologised, passing both through the bars. “I’ll bring something tomorrow night.”

“Fond memories of Mirkwood,” Thorin murmured.

“Memories of Mirkwood, anyway,” Bilbo agreed. “Tell me who you are.”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield.” And that was all he said, turning away and shuffling back into the corner of his cell.


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo brought food and water for several more nights. Thorin ate and drank, but he spoke less and less as time went on, and Bilbo had more and more trouble keeping his spirits up. He couldn’t see a way to get around this.

He couldn’t get to Kíli or Fíli, either. His only contact was with Bofur, who told him Kíli was still leaving supplies but wouldn’t stop to talk to him. News of Thorin’s incarceration had filtered through the Company, and Bilbo dearly wished he had better news for Bofur; but by now Thorin wasn’t talking at all, and it was a struggle to get him to eat or drink anything at all.

Desperation made Bilbo careless; or maybe, he thought later, he wanted to get everything over with. He’d meant what he told Fíli. This situation was not fair on anyone. And the Dwarves were trapped by their very nature.

Still, he hadn’t meant it to be quite like this.

He hadn’t expected anyone to be on the balcony; he’d never seen anyone up there. He’d been sitting against the railing, half listening as Thrain talked with Dain and Fíli occasionally put in a word; it was the closest he could come to the boys, nowadays.

And then someone shouted, and he looked up in horror to see Dwalin and one of Thrain’s guards standing over him.

Dwalin swooped in to grab his arm, hauling him to his feet and shaking him gently; Bilbo had enough sense to throw himself back and forward as though Dwalin were being far more rough. “What are you doing up here?” he growled.

Someone shouted from down below, and Thrain’s guard leaned over the railing to answer. Bilbo aimed a kick that almost connected, and Dwalin howled and thrust him away; Bilbo scrambled for the corridor, panting in terror, but he hadn’t managed to get the Ring on before more guards boiled in and he was trapped. Dwalin pushed between them, grabbing Bilbo’s arms and holding him tightly.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked again, and this time he sounded broken. Bilbo sagged in his grip, unable to think of anything to say.

Dwalin dragged him to the throne room, cursing and swinging him around. Bilbo let him do it; it meant he couldn’t focus on the faces of the Company as he was dragged past, couldn’t see Fíli’s reaction as he was forced to his knees in front of the dais. Dwalin stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder.

There was a long, tense silence before Thrain spoke. “That is Thorin’s Hobbit.”

Bilbo started to answer, but Dwalin’s hand tightened on his shoulder and he fell silent.

“I said that he was to be returned home, did I not? Was that not my word, Fíli?”

“It was,” Fíli confirmed, voice tight.

“And yet he is still here. Someone bring the boy up here.”

And then Thrain turned away, back to whatever he’d been talking to Dain about. Bilbo knelt, vaguely aware that Dwalin was solid and warm behind him and that occasionally his hand moved in the corner of Bilbo’s eye, in the purposeful movements he recognised as Iglishmek. He didn’t dare look up to see who Dwalin was talking to, though.

Thorin landed hard beside him, slowly drawing himself up to his knees. Bilbo heard a noise from Kíli’s direction, quickly smothered; he glanced sideways, eyes widening. Thorin looked terrible, filthy from the cell, skin drawn tight over the bones of his face, shadows under his eyes.

Thrain paced towards them; Bilbo flicked a glance up to see Fíli behind him, hands tangled in his sleeves as though holding himself together.

“Boy,” Thrain said thoughtfully, “remind me what my words were concerning your Hobbit.”

Thorin shifted very slightly on his knees; when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “He is to return to the Shire.”

“Then why is it that I find him here spying on my council session?”

“I’ve been unable to arrange his travel, my lord,” Thorin said evenly.

“Been unable…”

“It’s winter.” Thorin’s voice was strengthening. “And he signed a contract guaranteeing him a reward, which I’ve been unable to provide him. And lately, my lord, I’ve been unable to do anything.” 

“You will be silent, boy!” Thorin bowed his head, and Thrain hissed “You have sent your creature here to spy on me! To learn my secrets! He is part of your conspiracy!”

“There is no conspiracy, Father…”

“SILENCE!”

“I brought him here.”

Thrain turned; Bilbo flinched as Kíli pushed his way through the Company, who were doing their best to hold him back. “I kept Bilbo here,” he said, facing down his grandfather without a trace of fear. “I wanted him to stay, and he did not refuse me. Thorin had nothing to do with it, he didn’t know anything about it.”

“Kíli, be silent,” Thorin gritted.

“You will not give orders to my heirs, boy! You have no standing in this Court.”

“I am Thorin’s heir,” Kíli said clearly. “I do not recognise your right to rule. I’ll follow no king who would treat his own blood this way.”

“Kíli,” Fíli groaned. Kíli ignored him, crossing to stand at Thorin’s shoulder; Dwalin fell back, out of his path, and Bilbo was free. He took advantage to scramble to his feet, mirroring Kíli’s position at Thorin’s other shoulder.

“Kíli,” Thorin said softly, standing, “recant and return to your grandfather.”

“No,” Kíli told him. “This is wrong, Uncle. I am loyal to the Crown, but not when the Dwarf wearing it is mad. I will follow you anywhere but here.” His fingers were moving, and Bilbo caught an answering flicker from Fíli before both stilled.

Thrain was staring at them in disbelief, though at least he didn’t seem to have noticed the igliskmek. “You sow discord in the very heart of my reign,” he said, almost sadly.

“This is your doing, Father, not mine,” Thorin told him. “I bowed to you and I meant it; I’ve no desire for your crown. You are allowing this obsession to drive your people away. Only let it go, and I and all those who claim to follow me will serve you all our days.”

“All those who claim to follow you,” Thrain repeated. “And just how many might that be, boy? How many of my people have you tempted away?”

“I have not…”

Balin moved suddenly, crossing to stand on Kíli’s other side. “I have lived too long and seen too much injustice to bear another. I will not stand by while you treat your son this way, my lord.” Ori was behind him, coming to Bilbo’s other side, head down but stance certain.

“No one else move!” Thorin ordered loudly. Bilbo thought Bofur and some of the others were shifting, but no one tried to join them. “No one will do this. Balin…”

“No,” Balin said easily. “There is right, and there is right, Thorin. Honour to the Crown is right, but not now. Not this. You will not make me agree to watch this.”

“I will give you something to watch,” Thrain hissed, gesturing to his guards. Bilbo found himself shoved to one side; Kíli steadied him briefly before trying to push past, but they’d all been separated from Thorin, who was watching Thrain steadily.

The guards crowded against Kíli and Balin, shoving them back further; Bilbo stumbled back with them, Kíli’s hand still tight on his arm and Ori on his other side. Thorin now stood in an empty space; Fíli was standing motionless by the throne, and the rest of the Company was watching, still held by Thorin’s order.

Then Kíli shouted, trying to force his way through the guards, and Bilbo focused numbly on the whip in Thrain’s hand.

“No one moves,” Thorin said evenly, watching his father closely. “Kíli, stop! No one moves!”

“This is shameful,” Balin said loudly, catching Kíli’s arm and jerking him away from the guard.

“Shameful!” someone Bilbo didn’t recognise echoed from the other side of the room.

“Shameful for one of my blood to turn against me so,” Thrain agreed. “Turn around, boy.”

Thorin turned on the spot, eyes finding Bilbo’s past the guards. He didn’t speak, but his lips shaped the words ‘no one moves’. Bilbo desperately wanted to close his eyes, but he kept them open and locked on Thorin’s. If this was all he could do for Thorin, he’d do it right.

The whip rose. The whip fell.

And Bilbo found himself between Thorin and the dais, facing down Thrain. “No more,” he said, and he barely recognised his own voice. “You will not do this thing.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin started.

“Thorin, this has gone beyond your refusal to unseat a king,” Bilbo said firmly. “Thrain will not stop with you. He will chase this conspiracy through all his people, even if it leaves him alone in the mountain. You must see that. He is not a Dwarf who can be king.”

“I am the only Dwarf who can be king,” Thrain hissed. “Stand aside, little Halfling. This is none of your concern.”

“None of my concern,” Bilbo repeated. “For Thorin I left the Shire. For Thorin I walked among Trolls. For Thorin I passed through the Goblin Mountains. For Thorin I defied the king of Mirkwood. For Thorin I faced the Dragon Smaug, and for Thorin I fought the armies of Gundabad. For Thorin, and for his people, I will not bow to you. You are no king, Thrain, for no true king could treat his people so, and no true father could treat his son this way. Stand down, or be stood down. I will not rest while that crown is on your head.”

“Treason!”

“No, my lord,” Balin said mildly, stepping around Kíli to join Bilbo. “Hobbits are not subject to you. Therefore they cannot commit treason no matter what they do.”

Bilbo glanced sideways at him. “Truly?”

“Truly. You can still be punished for breaking our laws, of course, but you can never be convicted of treason.”

“Oh. Good.” And he took a quick step forward, caught hold of the whip and jerked it out of Thrain’s hands, tossing it contemptuously to one side.

“Guards!” Thrain howled, but only one or two of his own stepped forward, and none of them laid a hand on anyone.

“Father,” Thorin said softly. “There is still time. Only let go of this poisonous notion. I will stand by your side and follow you all my days.”

“I will not! You will not take this from me! I am King under the Mountain!” And he actually stamped his foot.

Thorin bowed his head for a moment; then he lifted it and spoke clearly. “I declare Thrain, son of Thror, to be ill and unable to continue ruling. Will any challenge me?” No one spoke to challenge him, though Thrain was still screaming abuse, and he looked to Fíli. “You are his heir…”

“I am your heir.” Fíli tore the crown from his head, looking beyond relieved, and stumbled down the steps to press it into Thorin’s hands. “You will rule, Uncle.” Raising his voice, he added, “Will any challenge me?”

No one spoke, and Thorin squeezed Fíli’s shoulder gently before turning to the dwarves who had followed Thrain. “You may stay here, under my rule, or be released with honour, as you choose. You have two days to make your choice. Dwalin.” Dwalin stepped forward, and Thorin continued, “Remove my father to his chambers and make sure he is comfortable there.”

“You think to keep him in the Mountain?” Dwalin asked, ignoring Thrain’s shouts.

“He is my father, and a son of the line of Durin. I will not turn him out. Perhaps he can be made well again.”

“Perhaps,” Dwalin muttered, though his expression clearly said he didn’t agree. Stepping onto the dais, he caught Thrain’s arm and forced him down and through the chamber; Gloin and Dori fell in with him, escorting the former king.

“Long live the King under the Mountain,” Dain said from beyond the Company. “I move that everyone get some rest, cousin. And your healer should look at you.”

“I’m quite well,” Thorin said firmly. “But I agree that everyone should get some rest. Tomorrow, Dain, I would like to discuss the arrangements you had reached with Thrain.”

“At your service,” Dain agreed, bowing before turning to leave. His followers, and Thrain’s, left with him, and only the Company was left.

As soon as the door was closed Bilbo went for the nearest chair, shoving it at Thorin. “Sit.”

“Master Baggins…”

“Sit. I don’t care if you don’t need to, it’ll make me feel better.”

Thorin grimaced, but sat obediently. Bilbo was quite sure he hadn’t imagined the sigh of relief that went around the room once he was off his feet. Oin looked like he was barely holding himself back.

“Uncle.” Fíli dropped suddenly to his knees by the chair. “I would have been here with you, Uncle. Only that Kíli reminded me that should this fail, should you end up banished or worse, someone needed to be here to care for our people. I swear it on Durin himself, my heart was always with you.”

Thorin smiled faintly, reaching out to tangle a hand in Fíli’s braids. “You acted exactly as a prince of our line should, my nephew,” he said gently. “Exactly as I wished you to. There are no apologies necessary here.”

Kíli joined Fíli, and Bilbo started trying to subtly usher the other Dwarves away; this was not for the Company to see. “And I, Uncle? I did not act as a prince should.”

“You, my lad, acted as a nephew should.”

“I would have followed him through anything else.” Tears were standing in Kíli’s eyes, and now Balin was helping Bilbo get rid of the others. “But I could not watch him hurt you.”

They were silent. Bilbo held the door for Balin, glancing back just once. The King under the Mountain sat, holding his nephews; he glanced up just once, his eyes met Bilbo’s, and he mouthed ‘thank you.’

Bilbo smiled and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Thanks for reading along with me, guys. :D


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